


there's a science to walking through windows

by little_alien_duck, snaredrum



Series: harder better faster stronger [3]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Found Family, The Quigley Chapter TM, quigley is literally a triplet but he and sunny are the disaster twins, weird uncle lemony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:32:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18390329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_alien_duck/pseuds/little_alien_duck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snaredrum/pseuds/snaredrum
Summary: A disadvantage of being on a four month long cartography expedition is that you have no permanent address for your family to reach you, meaning that you're not always up to date on developments at home. Such as, the fact that your surrogate daughter's biological uncle has not only become a frequent visitor, but shares some of your idiosyncrasies.Or: Quigley climbs through a window. Lemony has the same idea.





	there's a science to walking through windows

**Author's Note:**

> hello! either again, or for the first time. if you haven't read the previous works in the series, that's fine, this will still make sense; beatrice is ten, the baudelaires and quagmires share a house, and lemony is a semipermanent fixture. the title comes from graceless by the national because we have no sense of subtlety.

Okay. Quigley could explain. 

He was on his way home. Cartography required him to travel, sometimes far away and for much longer than he would have liked. He missed his family, and it was quicker to cut through the yard and climb up the side of the house through the library window than to walk all the way around to the front door like some square. 

Well, maybe not quicker. But definitely cooler. That was just the daring life of a mapmaker. The rest of the family might not like it, per se, but they had come to expect it.

Quigley knew what he was doing. He’d done this more times than he could count, and it had been the same every time. He would climb in, look very cool, and Duncan would ask him to never do that again. 

Things had been going smoothly, as usual .  Until he made eye contact with the man climbing through the opposite window, his frozen position a mirror of Quigley's own.  Quigley’s heart caught in his throat. A stranger was breaking into their home, the only place that they’d been safe since he was a kid.

Which is why Quigley was half a second from bursting through the window and whipping out his flare gun when Isadora walked in looking a lot less worried than Quigley expected her to. Instead, she wore a look of intense exasperation as she came over to him and held out her hand, palm up.

“Quigley, Lemony, the door; we’ve been over this before.” 

Quigley also heard the unsaid request for the flare gun, but he was reluctant to relinquish it, still holding eye contact with the man. His heart was pounding.  _ Okay, let's go through this, Q _ . Isadora wasn't panicking. She had referred to both of them by name. The man made no move to attack either Quagmire; in fact, he looked as afraid as Quigley himself. Quigley holstered the flare gun, ignoring the slight tremble of his hand, and climbed fully through the window and into the room. He turned to Isadora with forced nonchalance. “I take it you know him? You’re not usually this cavalier about home intruders.”

“Quigley, meet Lemony Snicket,” Isadora gestured to the man, who was now standing awkwardly by the window, readjusting his tie. “You’ve heard of him before. He’s –”

“The author?”

“I was going to say Beatrice’s uncle, but yes, he did write those books.”

Lemony looked down.

Quigley beamed. “Really? I learned everything I know about accordions from you!”

Lemony’s head snapped back up. Oh.  _ Those _ books.

“I’m glad you found them  elucidative, a word which here means, informational.”

“He defines words  _ frequently, _ ” Isadora whispered to Quigley who was still staring at Lemony like his idol had just climbed in through the window. Which, in fact, he had.

Quigley finally tore his eyes away from the author of the definitive text on accordions and turned toward Isadora, excitement lighting up his face. “Hi, it’s good to see you for the first time in four months! I’m sorry I didn’t lead with that.” 

Isadora smiled, the look of someone letting out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding. “You too. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

They heard a small cough, and both turned to look at Lemony. 

“Don’t mind me.”

The Quagmires stared. “Could we have a moment?” Isadora stated, not requested.

Lemony appeared apologetic, like the thought they might want some privacy genuinely hadn’t occurred to him. “Of course. Should I go get Duncan? I believe he’s still in the living room.” His eyes met Quigley’s. “He’s spoken quite highly of you. As have they all. It’s my pleasure to finally meet you.”

(As Lemony started down the hall, he thought he could hear Quigley say, “Did you hear that, Isa?  _ The  _ leading accordion expert said it was a pleasure to meet  _ me.” _ )

Before Isadora could reply came the sound of footsteps thundering down the hall. 

“Quigley!” 

Duncan nearly tackled his brother with a hug. Without letting go of Duncan, Quigley turned and grabbed Isadora to pull her into their embrace.

Quigley loved cartography. He loved everything about it, including the travel. 

But nothing beat coming home and seeing his siblings again. The three of them were a package deal, and something always felt not quite right when they weren’t together.

Within minutes, the rest of the family had wandered into the library to figure out what the commotion was, and rushed to give Quigley hugs of their own once they saw he had returned. 

Beatrice climbed up on his shoulders. “Oof, Bea, you’re getting heavy.”

She smiled down at him. “I could get Uncle Lemony to do it, he’s strong.”

Quigley rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “Pfft, no, I’ve got you.” He paused. “ _ Uncle _ Lemony.” He tilted his head back in an attempt to look her in the eyes. “Can I call him that?”

Beatrice shrugged, crossing her arms and bracing them against Quigley’s head. “I don’t see why not.” 

“Hey Uncle Lemony, you can come back now!” Quigley shouted, sounding absolutely overjoyed to use the honorific.

Lemony tentatively reentered the room, looking prepared to climb back out of the window if the situation called for it. “An uncle is typically the brother of one’s parent, or the husband of the sibling of one’s parent, though it can also be used in a more colloquial context of an older man who, though not related by blood, is close enough to warrant the position of honorary family –”

“Just accept it,” Violet interrupted. Quigley knew Violet well enough to tell that beneath her polite tone, she wasn’t exactly sure what to make of Lemony Snicket. But they all seemed to trust him, and Beatrice looked at him like he was the wisest man in the world.  

Sunny clapped her hands together. She had gotten taller, even in just the few months Quigley had been away. “Okay, special occasion time. I’ll cook something. Uncle Lemony, are you staying for dinner?”

“Yes, he is,” Beatrice said before Lemony had time to turn down the offer. 

“I’ll help cook!” Quigley beamed, at which point the rest of them began to look suspicious. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Quigley, it was just that he and Sunny had been known to get into trouble on occasion. 

“Just don’t, you know, destroy the house?” Klaus said. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll supervise,” Duncan offered. 

Violet side eyed him. “Are you sure?”

“Duncan, don’t you have a newspaper you were reading? In the living room?” Isadora suggested. 

“I’ll just finish it in the kitchen while they cook, it’ll be fine.” Duncan shrugged her off. 

“The rest of us will be in the house in case anything starts to get out of hand,” Violet said, and Quigley was beginning to feel like he and Sunny were being ganged up on. 

“We’re just going to be making dinner, we can’t possibly get into that much trouble,” he said with his best “I am just an innocent cartographer” smile. He set Beatrice down and was starting to walk downstairs with Sunny and Duncan when he thought he heard Klaus say, “I’m sure they  _ can _ get into that much trouble.” 

 

***

 

Sunny was making dinner. Quigley was making a mess. 

It had started with him trying to be helpful. However, in his over enthusiasm, he had succeeded in throwing a bag of flour across the room. 

It wasn’t his fault. It was an accident, really. All he’d meant to do was tell his brother about an incident during his trip. 

“Hey Duncan,” he began as he turned around, losing his grip on the offending bag of flour in hand. 

Duncan, who had been reading his third newspaper of the day at the counter, looked up just in time to see it hit him squarely in the face, knocking his chair backward. The bag of flour exploded on impact, and the entire kitchen was covered in powder.

Slowly, with all the menace of a wasp whose nest has been kicked, Sunny turned to Quigley.

“Quigley Quentin Quagmire, get your ass out of my kitchen.” 

“My middle name’s not Quentin!” Quigley shouted over his shoulder as he vaulted over the breakfast table in his mad dash to get to the patio door.

Well. Almost vaulted. 

It would have looked  _ so cool _ .

Instead, he ended up catching his foot on the edge of the counter; his momentum pulled him forward as his foot pulled him back, resulting in a rather spectacular wipeout. It looked decidedly less cool.

He scrambled to his feet and was out the door in seconds, grinning triumphantly from the backyard. 

His grin faltered as he saw Sunny striding past Duncan, who was still on the floor covered in flour, carrying an armful of eggs and a slingshot. She was looking right at him, and there was nowhere to run. 

“Where’d you even get that?” he shouted.

Sunny took aim. “I keep it taped under the counter. I know you, Quagmire.”

She fired. 

 

***

 

Klaus, in his pursuit of maximizing his ratio of time spent reading to time spent awake, had mastered the art of reading while walking. He was also very capable of reading while eating or drinking, so getting a glass of water with his nose stuck in a book was a pretty standard affair. Normally, he would have gotten his glass and left the kitchen without looking up once. 

However, a blob of white where there should not have been one, spotted in his peripheral vision, caused him to look up from  _ In Search of Lost Time _ .

The white blob turned out to be Duncan, coated in what appeared to be flour. With a sinking feeling in his stomach he turned to look out the window, only to see his younger sister chasing one egg-covered Quigley Quagmire around through their backyard, fury in her eyes. 

He raised an eyebrow as Duncan sat up, holding his hand to his head. 

“So, you’ve got this, right?”

Duncan groaned. “Could you get me an ice pack?”

 

***

 

There was a family tradition established several years ago, after the first several times any of them had ventured away from the house by themselves for more than a couple days at a time: dinner on the night they returned was dominated by the others updating them on everything that had happened in their absence.

They had a lot to update Quigley on. The conversation, as usual, was somewhat disastrous, with everyone clamoring over each other to correct their retelling of events or arguing about what information was most pressing. It was overwhelming and chaotic; Quigley loved it.

After dinner, Sunny broke out the playing cards. Beatrice had gotten a lot better at poker in Quigley’s absence, a development which unnerved him greatly as he found himself losing more and more jelly beans. 

“Congratulations, Uncle Lemony,” Quigley said after several rounds.

The man in question looked up from where he had been squinting at the cards in his hand. “May I ask for what?”

“We finally found a worse player than Klaus and Duncan.”

The room erupted. Klaus and Duncan sprung to their own defense; Violet almost dropped her cards in her fit of laughter; Beatrice patted Lemony on the arm. Sunny just looked smug, while Isadora shrugged and nodded in agreement. 

About an hour later, Lemony put his cards down and stood up. “I will be retiring to bed now. Thank you for dinner, and for the game. Goodnight, everyone.” He left the room.

Quigley watched him go. “Does he live here now?”

He received three responses at the same time.

“No,” said Violet.

“I don’t think so,” said Klaus.

“Yes,” said Beatrice.

Violet, Klaus, and Beatrice each looked surprised by the other answers given.  

Quigley nodded. “Got it.”

 

***

 

The poker game didn’t last too much longer. With Lemony gone, Klaus and Duncan quickly got tired of losing. They began to drift upstairs, yawning and teasing each other. At the top of the stairs, they split up, a chorus of “goodnights” echoing down the hall. 

For Quigley, it was the little things that reminded him he was truly back home: the water pressure of the shower being just right, the distant sound of metal clanging emanating from Violet’s workshop, the fact that his toothbrush sat right next to Duncan’s in their shared bathroom. 

As Quigley brushed his teeth, he heard the soft sound of someone approaching. He turned to see Beatrice standing there, wearing her pajamas and clutching the toy bat she’d had since she was a baby. 

“Quigley?”

“Yeah, Bea?”

“I’m really glad you’re home.” 

Quigley opened his arms, and Beatrice threw herself into them. She’d never been on her own, never had to face the horrors that he and the others had to contend with when they were kids. It was something that Quigley was unspeakably grateful for, especially when he was reminded of it in the way that she showed her love for them all without any reservation.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Quigley hoisted Beatrice into his arms just like he had all her life, and carried her back to her room. He tucked her in, despite her half-hearted protests that she was too old for that sort of thing. Maybe she was, but Quigley was forced to let go of his childhood too early, and he wasn’t going to let that happen to Beatrice. 

He turned out the light. “Goodnight, Bea.”

“Goodnight Quigley,” she mumbled, already half asleep. 

 

***

 

Quigley flipped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of his room. The clock on his bedside table read 2:17 AM, and he had yet to fall asleep. This happened sometimes, particularly when he was stressed. No matter how tired he was, he could not fall asleep if there was a worry nagging at the back of his brain. 

For the fifth time that night, Quigley slipped out of bed and down the hall. Lying motionless in bed gave him a lot of time to sit and think, and often when he had moments of such stillness he became anxious, particularly about the wellbeing of his siblings. He felt compelled to check on them, if only to ease his mind. 

Isadora was sitting up when he entered – well, reentered – her room. Quigley’s shoulders slumped. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”

She shook her head. “I understand.” She pushed back her covers and stood up. “We could have a sleepover, if you want. Let’s go get Duncan.” 

Quigley wore a tired smile as he followed her out the room. He felt relieved that he didn’t have to explain how he felt to her; she likely felt the same way. 

Isadora softly knocked on Duncan’s door, then pushed it open. The first thing Quigley noticed was that the lights were on. The second thing he noticed was the huge air mattress set up on the floor, Duncan already sprawled on it, half covered by a blanket. 

The three of them used to share a bed somewhat frequently, generally after one of them had a nightmare. Nightmares used to be common. They would wake up terrified of realizing that they were alone, that their siblings were gone and in danger. The only thing that had helped back then was for all three of them to pile into one bed, waiting until the fear dissipated.

Now, they usually kept to their own rooms, excluding the occasional nightmare or their first night together after being separated. The air matress seemed smaller than it once had, with three fully grown adults sharing, but none of them minded. 

Quigley was finally able to fall asleep, even with Duncan hogging the blankets and Isadora mumbling couplets in her sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> they had fried chicken at dinner. quigley wanted dinosaur chicken nuggets but sunny won't allow them within a five hundred foot radius of her kitchen so they compromised.
> 
> also, HUGE shoutout to sea_pig for being super cool and designing the layout of the house!!!
> 
> \- snaredrum, little_alien_duck


End file.
